Merriton

Sweet Jesus, what was that stench?! Randy had been subjected to many bad smells over the last couple of weeks while Sierra had been perfecting her project in the kitchen. Randy had been exiled from the kitchen, but the odors from downstairs had convinced him that whatever she was creating, he was NOT going to eat it. He ventured as far as the swinging doors of the kitchen. “Sierra? What are you doing?” He heard her voice spring from the kitchen doors with such force that he was surprised they didn’t open. “Do not come in here, Random McCain!” He shook his head, “Who would want to?! It stinks so bad! Just making sure you didn’t fall in.” He heard her grumbling, “You just stay out.”

Randy knew that it was unfair that she had to have her experiments in his sight while the others were allowed to fail in privacy. He had heard her crying on the phone a couple of days ago. He could tell she was talking to her mother in San Francisco and didn’t intrude. She wouldn’t say a word to him about it the next day. Sierra had never been much of a cook, so the stench from the kitchen was not a surprise. He was merely surprised that she had chosen cooking to be her project. Next Monday, they were presenting, so she had only a few days to finish up and be ready to present.

What was he doing worrying about Sierra? He had his own presentation to worry about and he had less than nothing. LESS THAN NOTHING.

Another smell wafted over, entirely different than the oppressive smells coming from the kitchen. He followed it and realized that they were coming from the suicide room. He hadn’t stepped into the suicide room since the night they moved in. He hadn’t even gone into the master bathroom to clean it. Both he and Sierra always ran upstairs to use the bathroom up there instead of the one in the suicide room. He wondered what the toilet looked like after months of disuse. A black ring around the water? The smell of ammonia?

He put his hand on the doorknob of the suicide room while glancing at the kitchen. Sierra was still banging around in there as he turned the handle. Somehow, he hoped that the stain had faded. He cracked the door and looked through the opening. Nope, the stain was still there on the wall. A white nose stuck out the door and bleated. A baby goat? He opened the door fully and it was obvious what Sierra had done. One of the baby goats was being kept in the suicide room. Didn’t Sierra say that Mary had rejected one of the sickly babies? Yeah, Randy hung his head in shame for not listening better. He remembered asking if the baby was going to be alright and she had said that she was taking care of it instead of Mary. Did she tell him that she was going to keep the kid in the suicide room?

Randy looked at the baby goat wearing the cutest of diapers and his project unfolded before his eyes. Suddenly, he realized that he had so much to do and only a few days to do it in.